Two Minutes Under A Table
by Cerrone17
Summary: Things go awry at the Weasley wedding party and Hermione finds herself in an unexpected place.


Hermione sat quietly at a table. Quietly compared to the jubilations going on around her, that is. Up until now the Weasley's wedding party had been brilliant. But now, she sat quietly at a table. Next to her Ronald sat with a look of apathy, they'd been having disagreements a lot lately and tonight was just another ridiculous argument. Thankfully though, it was late in the evening and several guests had retired to sit at their own tables quietly, vicariously celebrating with the rest of the more energetic guests. The silence at their table was enough for Hermione, it was just easier to wait these things out than to try and fix them herself. Ronald had an annoying habit of completely shutting off when she tried to reason with him, she knew how Molly felt. Her eyes drifted lazily over the heads and well dressed bodies of the party guests, half listening to their blurry conversations. She felt like the muffled dialogue coated everything in an orange sheen, an orange glow. Not purple, like everything in sight, but orange. Perhaps, to her, it was the colour of late nights. It was warm inside the gargantuan tent, almost too warm. Her breath seemed to pool in front of her face, the carnal air incapable of being propelled any further than those few inches - as if the atmosphere inside the tent was fully saturated with warm, breathy air already. Every now and again a phantom breeze of cool air would reach her, caused by someone slipping out into the cold night and the night would suck itself into the falsely lit space. It seemed like, that night, the darkness functioned like a vacuum.

Delicate aromas of food swirled around her head, the meals were finished but their scent still remained. Even with Ronald sulking next to her Hermione found it hard to feel anything but content. All those smiling people around her, laughing and celebrating love. Though it was late in the night Bill and Fleur were still dancing in the middle of the room, only a few paces away from them, seated, Arthur and Molly looked as if they were both about to lift off their chairs with pride. Towards the side wall of the tent Remus and Tonks stood, chatting quietly. These days Tonks wore brown hair, not unlike her own. She seemed placid, and so far removed from the magenta haired girl who'd come to her rescue at the Ministry. A smile stretched Hermione's lips ever so slightly as she turned her gaze down to her lap. Gently she smoothed her hands over the soft, red fabric of her dress, she loved how the delicate weave felt under her fingers. It seemed a shame she might not get to wear it again.

Again Hermione lifted her eyes. She let her vision lull over the room, the dimness and warmth of the light in this space began to shift and churn. Shadows grew from nowhere and the beautiful orange glow which kissed every surface was dissolved, effortlessly, when corners seemed take on a sterile white glow and stepped out from their harmony. Not quietly, but _silently,_ a patronus drifted through the wall of the tent. Hermione watched, perplexed, as it came through the thin barrier like a spear of light. Everybody stopped still and turned toward the uninvited apparition, its light transforming the room in and instant. It was so bright that Hermione's eyes couldn't adjust fast enough to see what form the patronus took. It was so bright that Hermione couldn't see anything else. The corners of the room seemed impenetrably dark. Gently and full of effort, the patronus began to form sounds. The sounds began to form letters. The letters began to form words:

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

Time seemed to slow infinitely and all external noise failed to find its way into Hermione's ears, as if along the way it had gotten lost in unseen crevasses. No, she heard only the internal noises, the shallow breaths and the quickening heartbeat. She heard the adrenaline rushing through her, rather than feeling it, it was like a low buzz, like pure electricity straining to have its voice heard. Hermione watched as, in slow motion, people's expressions began to morph and warp into those of horror. Silently, to Hermione at least, people began to disapparate from the party. In slow motion she could see their limbs collapsing in on themselves, twisting into impossible gestures and eventually spiralling into nothing. From beside her Ron ran across the room, she watched him almost float across the space, as more and more guests disappeared. As if in third person Hermione urged herself to move, to run after Ronald, but her legs wouldn't budge and her mouth hung open, lips desperately searching for words to wrap themselves around. She still heard the dragging of air into her body and the rustling of her own hair against her skull.

Hermione became aware, then, of a tugging at her wrist, pulling her backwards, a moment later she felt a tugging at her waist too, urging her backwards more definitely. Before she knew what to make of the tugging Hermione found herself kneeling under the table she was just sitting at, looking out at the space she thought she was standing in. The table cloth hung over the edge of the makeshift roof and coated half of her vision with a soft lavender. Slowly, like everything else, her ears began picking up noise. She heard the rabble outside first, the muffled conversations from earlier had stopped, changed into panicked exchanges punctuated by the pop of apparation every now and again. Beside her, she heard her name.

"Hermione?" The tone was low, gentle and familiar. Hermione's brain began to click over, she could practically hear the whirring of gears in her head and slowly began drifting back to reality.

Gingerly, Hermione turned to her side to see Tonks staring back at her, with a look of confusion on her face.

Again, she called, "Hermione?"

Hermione, still not quite able to fully comprehend the situation plainly and simply responded, "Tonks."

The unexpected answer made Tonks chuckle a little before she continued, "You alright Hermione?"

"Uh, yes… Why.. Um.." Brain to mouth wasn't quite working for her yet.

"Because you were just standing out there, like a big red target so I pulled you under the table so you could get yourself together." Tonks' voice was remarkably sprightly.

Her head still swirling after the patronus, Hermione furrowed her brow, hoping that the creases in her forehead might decode what Tonks had just said.

"Big red t-… Oh. Yes." Finally Hermione's mind seemed to be catching up with the situation.

"Listen, Hermione, there are Death Eaters coming, so you've got to pull yourself together."

Hermione liked the way Tonks said her name. Her voice was always deeper than she expected it to be, it was like a thick syrup of a voice compared to her own rather shrill vocals. She cleared her throat before speaking again, hoping to purge whatever it was that had kept her from coherency. "How many do you think?"

"I'm not sure, probably a lot." Hermione glanced down at Tonks' posture and smirked a little to see her on all fours.

"How long?"

"Minutes, maybe. Are you going to be alright?" Here, Tonks raised her hand up to Hermione's shoulder and squeezed it. Even in a situation like this, with Death Eaters expected to arrive at any moment, Tonks could make her smile. For a moment they looked at each other smiling, they'd always had a certain affinity. It was like their bodies spoke the same language.

Hermione's gaze flicked up from Tonks' eyes and noticed that her hair had, at some point, turned magenta. The brown haired Tonks seemed unnatural to her, so she hardly noticed when the woman donned the magenta she'd gotten to know first. Hermione admired her magic greatly, it was so effortless and intuitive. Something which you couldn't get from a book. And Hermione had tried.

Tonks had noticed Hermione's wandering eyes and she shot a playful look of confusion at the girl and chuckled. "Wotcher 'mione?"

Hermione's smile broadened as she tore her gaze from Tonks and looked out across the floor. Most of the guests had gone and the light from the patronus had just about faded and everything was dim.

"Voldemort's got the Ministry…" Hermione spoke to confirm it, rather than question it.

But Tonks replied anyway, "No surprises there."

"What happened to Remus?"

"He went to help people get away safely. I was going to go with him, but then I saw you."

A jolt of guilt shot through Hermione, her freezing up might have stopped someone from getting away.

"Oh, sorry. I really don't know what came over me." Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, digging the digits lightly into her skull to confirm she still had a brain.

"It's fine, 'mione, it happens to the best of us, eh?" Tonks gently elbowed Hermione in the ribs, who lulled sideways as a broad smile spread across her lips.

It was one of the things she liked so much about Tonks, she made everything alright - even when it clearly wasn't. Hermione let her eyes graze again over the woman in front of her, she could see Tonks' gaze shift from her left eye to her right. She had a special smile about her sometimes and Hermione wasn't sure what it was but it made her feel so calm. In freely looking at Tonks Hermione's smile grew and she bit her lip lightly to suppress it. The silence was never awkward between them, they didn't always have to be speaking, as if their company to each other was enough. Being around Tonks was so easy. So natural.

"They'll be here any second now, you right 'mione?" Tonks finally said, her voice low.

Hermione nodded her head, finding it suddenly hard to speak. A smirk crept across Tonks' lips where it quickly faded and now she was looking at Hermione with _those_ eyes. Hermione freely looked over the woman's strong features, the strong brow and blue eyes. The structure and build of this woman was so different from herself, with her lithe body wrapped in such a sheer red dress.

Suddenly, as if by an unspoken mutual agreement, their hands were cradling each other's heads and their lips were firmly pressed together. They were connected at the mouth then, it was almost as if their respective talents in magic were flowing and crashing together through the warm joining. Tonks' arms fell from around Hermione's neck and grazed over the bare skin of her upper back and down further until they pooled around her waist where she pulled the girl's body into hers, arching Hermione's back, practically doubling her over her already contorted body. Through her dress Hermione could feel the warmth of Tonks' body, and in those achingly few spots where their bare skin touched she could feel the heat of the woman. Hermione felt herself smile into the kiss and Tonks chuckled lowly and breathily into the contact, she loved the way this made her feel, but she never could have fathomed it before now.

Tonks' lips were indescribably warm and exceptionally soft. When she rhythmically parted her lips the heat of her mouth would take Hermione by surprise. Never with Ronald had things been so slick and sheer. Hermione's hands slid down the witch's neck, her fingers wrapping around a collar pulling Tonks closer, pulling her deeper as the pads of her fingers slipped over the beads of the woman's necklace. Hermione broke the kiss, but didn't relinquish her grasp on Tonks' collar. Their faces only a few inches apart as the girl deftly bit her lip, intently staring at the slightly swollen strips of pink flesh before her. She looked up into the woman's eyes and was breathless when she saw the most exquisite shades of blue colouring Tonks' eyes, her pupils dilated.

In the distance Hermione heard someone shout '_Expelliarmus' _and knew that they had to go. Tonks' fingers in the small of her back, around her waist, tightened their grip for a moment as a smile came across the woman's mouth.

"Come on, 'mione. Let's get out there." Slowly, but not slowly enough, Tonks unravelled herself from the girl and leapt out from under the table - with Hermione in tow.

* * *

When she found herself in idleness, when she bounced little ginger children on her knee, when she saw those very particular shades of magenta, and those very particular shades of blue, Hermione's mind would go back, back, back, to that night the Ministry fell. To that time when she spent two minutes under a table with Nymphadora Tonks.


End file.
